


underwater

by Ffwydriad



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Bath Houses, Campaign 2 Episode 9: Steam & Conversation, Character Study, Gen, I have no idea how to tag this other than weird introspective Caleb nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-20 08:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17619233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ffwydriad/pseuds/Ffwydriad
Summary: He ducks beneath the water, and settles on the bottom, and lets the talk drown out into a faint rumble of vibrations in the water, lets everything fade out, until there is nothing but the water around him, but the echoing silence.





	underwater

He waits, for a few moments, their attention turned towards the large woman, Mollymauk's friend from before, and while they aren't paying attention, he slips into the waters, sliding down into the depths, letting just the top of his head emerge.

There's no reason to think they would be looking at him closely - no, they will be looking at him closely, but there's no reason to think they will be looking at his arms. He knows, to some extent, that the lines are thin, hard to see when you aren't close, but every time he sees his hands, he sees lines as clear as if they were drawn in ink, thick and red with blood, glowing, with that arcane aura, and it is hard to consider them as anything other than a beacon. 

It is paranoia, to think that they would see, to think that they would understand. Every last one of them has scars, and he has many on full display, and he knows that they wouldn't doubt them, that they would only ask if he offered them an interesting story of that which he's survived. 

There is an advantage, to becoming an adventuring hero - the scars he bears, there is no excuse to mask them of those from an ordinary life, but when fighting monsters, the strangest wounds are made, and anything becomes believable, reasonable even. 

Yasha brings news that their reputation has spread enough for her to track them. It is hard to say, how skilled she is at tracking, but she has ended up with them at a bathhouse leagues and leagues away from where last they had met, and it is a worrisome idea. Especially now, with everything clean, that means that there may be an actual description of him beyond 'dirty hobo wizard' which is a risk he's not certain he can afford. 

He ducks beneath the water, and settles on the bottom, and lets the talk drown out into a faint rumble of vibrations in the water, lets everything fade out, until there is nothing but the water around him, but the echoing silence.

The necklace floats upward, as he sinks, and he watches as it returns to settle slowly against his chest, transfixed and focused on the movements. To call it meditation wouldn't be accurate, but he supposes it serves a similar purpose. He holds his breath, and he closes his eyes, and he is weightless, empty, unattached to anything. 

He is sitting in the baths, with Astrid and Eodwulf. They are washing, some, keeping themself clean, the perfect image of the Empire's finest, and they are studying, some, never free from their studies, but for the most part they are taking the few true moments of rest which they can glean outside of the hours they have to sleep. Even in their rest, they are still practicing - they force themselves down to the bottom, sitting there and seeing who relents first, and it is close, all of them improving each time, until they devolve into stealing breaths with kisses and unfair tricks to force the others up, too even for fair fights. 

He is in the lake at home, diving down to the bottom and sifting through the rocks, the thinks ended up collected at the bed. He is sitting there and looking through the forest of plants and the swimming fish around him, transfixed half floating there, deep beneath the water, until thrashing limbs above him come diving down, worried that he's drowned himself.

His face is pushed into the water, hands curled around his throat, fingers wrapped around his hair, and he lets himself go limp, struggling as little as he can as the water envelops him, and as it does, he can almost swear that it is peaceful, or maybe that's the moments of unconsciousness, as he slips out of himself and returns to choking air and worried looks shifting quickly back into stern expressions. 

Everything is warm, and he is caught not in a sea of water, but of fire, and as he bursts back up, with a splash, he sees the fresh water, being poured in, and grounds himself, in certainty. Water will never burn him, it can only ever douse the flames. 

The water stills around him, and he keeps his face half-submerged, only lifting his mouth up to speak and elsewise keeping the lower half of his face beneath the level of the water, holding his breath and letting the ripples soothe around him. 

Drowning doesn't scare him like he knows it should. He can feel choked breaths and water in his lungs and it is - well, far from the worst things that he has felt, but it is not an easy thing to deal with. Of all the ways that to die - and he knows so many - it is a kinder one. Quick, and ultimately, the pain comes more from panic than the actual event. 

He holds his breath for as long as he can, and he lets his mind drift, lets himself be lost to the feeling, tethered to the present only by the voices of the Nein around him. 

When he leaves, he is careful, to keep his back turned, keep the necklace hidden, hurries back and wraps up the scars, and if any of them saw, he is grateful, at least, that none of them asked. Allies are useful, but friends are a dangerous thing to have, and questions, questions beg a death sentence to fall upon his head. 

He doesn't miss being clean, as much as he thought. His face now is that of a stranger, covered in dirt or freshly cleaned. But he misses baths like these, he misses the water. Everything makes sense, underwater, and he 

**Author's Note:**

> I have a lot of weird thoughts about Caleb and now i'm finally making them fics i guess. this is. really rambly. mostly because it's less a concise story and just a scene in caleb's perspective. 
> 
> do you ever sit under water? it's really strange, and i like it a lot. I get the feeling Caleb would like it too, what with the bit where he spent a few minutes completely underwater. I'm not certain how and if their time in the temple and under the water changed this. 
> 
> there's something i could say say about weird symbolism with Nott having a relaxation w/ fire, explosions, and inventing, while Caleb does a weird meditating/relaxing/self-harm thing by drowning himself.


End file.
